Sarah Hewon,
DxE Direct
Action Everywhere
May 2017
Pigs sing to their babies. Have you ever had a meal that tasted so good it was worth stealing a baby from their mother as she is singing to him and soothing him? Moms of many species will cry for days when their baby is taken or will walk miles to search for their baby or will injure themselves trying to save him. Why would we ever purposely put a mother in this situation?
As I write this with my son cuddling next to me on the couch, I wonder why I was so lucky to be born the right species. Why have I been given the freedom to love and care for my son, watch him grow, and learn from him as much as I teach him? Why are mothers who love their children as much as me not given that choice? Sometimes I am at such a loss when I imagine these grieving mothers.
Though I usually spend Mother’s Day thinking about my mom and other moms, this year I am sharing my own story, as a mom. I often feel like I just became a mom yesterday, but it has now been over a decade since I first met my baby. I don’t think I’ll ever have exactly the right words to describe this experience.
I believe my husband and I read thirteen pregnancy books before my son
arrived. We were so excited. We wanted to do everything right and we just
couldn’t think about anything but him, so reading books together about
pregnancy and childbirth filled every night for us. One suggestion I read
over and over was how important it is to hold your baby skin-to-skin, right
after he comes out. We desperately wanted this experience of childbirth to
be as peaceful and non-traumatic for him as possible. We wanted him to know
that even though he was no longer in the womb, we would continue to provide
the safest, most nurturing environment possible and we would always love him
unconditionally.
Childbirth was a long and emotional process. There were a few complications
and it took all my strength not to scream at the top of my lungs at several
of the nurses and doctors. After they said they needed to give him an
antibiotic before he was born, I became enraged when it had been ten minutes
and they had not returned with the antibiotic. I could not believe that my
baby was not their immediate priority at every second and the fear of him
being hurt in any way was tremendous. Obviously, this wasn’t my rational,
patient, logical self, evaluating this situation. It was an incredible dose
of hormones, combined with stress and exhaustion.
He eventually got the antibiotic and later made his way out into the world.
Though I wanted to hold him right away, they said they needed to take him to
the other side of the room for a minute to check him out first. I was deeply
saddened that I couldn’t hold him, but was glad there would be a team of
people making sure he was okay. So I was lying there by myself and a crowd
of people were all huddled around my baby, who I had not seen or touched
yet. I kept calling from across the room, “Is he okay? What’s going on? When
can I hold him?” I needed him to know his mom was still with him, that he
was not abandoned, that I would always be there. I needed to comfort him
after this crazy experience. I needed him to see and hear and feel and smell
me. But no one was answering my questions for what felt like an eternity.
This may have been the hardest moment of my life. Ten years later, I still
have tears running down my face when I think about it. And yet, it was
probably just a few minutes before I got to hold him and was assured that
everything was fine. Those mom hormones, especially immediately after birth,
are incredibly powerful and typically overpower all other thoughts and
emotions.
I didn’t get to have that immediate first connection I desperately
wanted, but at least I got to breastfeed my son. What an incredibly magical
experience! I can never truly describe the connection that brings between
mother and child- the way he looked up into my eyes, the way his body and
mine immediately relaxed after a stressful day, the way I could give him
what he needed most in life with no tools, no technology, nothing but my own
body. Breastfeeding has to be one of the coolest things our bodies do. One
part of the process is that the mother’s body absorbs her baby’s saliva and
detects any illnesses the baby may be fighting. The mother then creates
antibodies in her milk to feed to the baby to help fight that particular
illness. How incredible is it that milk is tailor-made for one specific baby
down to every last detail? I breastfed my son for longer than our society
typically tells us to because it was so soothing for him and me, especially
as he had to deal with the dysregulation of his autism. It also seemed to do
just what it needed to regarding illness. In all the years I breastfed him,
he had one very minor cold- no ear infections, no strep, no flu, nothing
else. I will forever be grateful that I continued for so long.
I am completely heartbroken and haunted by the fact that so many moms aren’t
granted the luxuries I have had. I was upset about not getting to hold my
baby for ten minutes. Some moms never get to hold or see their babies. Some
have them immediately stolen from them. If I am still upset ten years later
about having ten minutes without my baby, what must it be like to have your
baby taken away for a lifetime? With all those hormones after birth, how
could you survive such a horror? I know a few human moms who’ve experienced
this, but there are billions more nonhuman moms who endure this pain
multiple times in their lives. Most nonhuman moms have the same hormones and
emotions as humans, especially when it comes to caring for their babies. Our
human appearance, rituals, interactions, physical appearance, etc. mean
nothing in that moment when our baby arrives. We are all animals and our
need to care for our babies transcends species. Read about Farm Sanctuary’s
The Someone Project.
We get this same huge dose of hormones when our baby arrives to make sure
we love and care for them. We all feel this immense connection with our
babies. We all feed them and keep them warm and safe. We constantly look for
ways to soothe them and help them navigate a strange world. We are all
constantly fearful of our child being hurt and are beyond devastated if he
is taken away. Although, this devastation might be slightly worse for
nonhumans. Most nonhumans likely have absolutely no idea why their
beautiful, perfect baby is being stolen from them. No one is able to explain
to them that their baby is being taken away to be eaten by humans or so that
their milk can be given to humans. Although, if nonhumans spoke English,
would we even then be able to explain that to them? Humans have zero need
for flesh and secretions of another species, but we go ahead and separate
moms and kill babies anyway? How could we tell a grieving mother that?
Imagine you are a cow mother. Most often your baby is sent to the veal
industry, tortured, and killed. As you’re grieving, you are hooked up to a
machine so that your milk can be pumped almost non-stop for humans. A
problem arises, though, because once your baby has been gone for a while,
you eventually stop producing enough hormones to make milk for a machine.
(I’ve experienced this first-hand. Pumping my milk with a breast pump became
increasingly difficult the longer I was away from my son, as a machine is
just not the same as my child.) So, as a cow mother, you are given extra
hormones to help with this for a while, but eventually, you have to have
another baby in order to get your milk supply back. You are forcibly
impregnated, spend months anxiously waiting to meet your baby, and when he
arrives, once again, he is stolen, for no understandable reason. And then
back to the milking machines you go- no happy days of grazing in the
sunlight or teaching your baby about the world or feeling the incredible
connection of feeding them with your own body. This cycle continues over and
over until you are no longer able to give birth or produce milk. Then, you
are killed. All of this for human adults to drink the breast milk of another
species- the milk that belongs to your specific calf, who grows from 90 to
500 pounds in the first year and has a completely different digestive system
from humans. It’s so clear that your milk is not meant for humans, yet they
continue to ignore your pain and steal your milk, your baby, your freedom,
and your life.
Pigs sing to their babies. Have you ever had a meal that tasted so good
it was worth stealing a baby from their mother as she is singing to him and
soothing him? Moms of many species will cry for days when their baby is
taken or will walk miles to search for their baby or will injure themselves
trying to save him. Why would we ever purposely put a mother in this
situation?
As I write this with my son cuddling next to me on the couch, I wonder why I
was so lucky to be born the right species. Why have I been given the freedom
to love and care for my son, watch him grow, and learn from him as much as I
teach him? Why are mothers who love their children as much as me not given
that choice? Sometimes I am at such a loss when I imagine these grieving
mothers. But there is one silver lining. I was given the ability to speak
the same language as those who oppress nonhuman animals. I live among them
and interact with them daily. They are not unreachable monsters on the other
side of the world. They are my family and friends and co-workers and
neighbors. They are people with beautiful gifts and terrible flaws just like
me. They are victims of systems and social conditioning, just like me. And
every day, I am in the position to tell them the stories of survivors like
Sophie, Juniper, Scarlett, Annie, or Belle.
And each time I do, I break down a few barriers, plant a few seeds, and
share knowledge or experiences that were once left in silence. I get to
collaborate with like-minded humans all across the globe on the most
effective and creative ways to use our voices to fight speciesism. I can
turn mundane daily tasks into opportunities to speak for mothers and babies.
I learn so much through intense opportunities to consider the perspective of
the human or nonhuman in my life at that moment. I will leave this world
knowing that some of the mothers who suffered this immense loss didn’t get
left forever in silence, because I used my voice. And now I’ve learned that
my most important, beautiful, emotional, connective role, after being a
mother to my son, is using my experience as a mother to honor all mothers
and create a better world for their babies. If you are a mom, if you have a
mom, if you love a mom, if you know a mom, if you need a mom- use your love
and joy and pain and fear to expand your care and advocacy for moms of all
kinds.
Start today, on this Mother’s Day, and keep going until we achieve total
animal liberation.
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